Diary of a novelist living in Silicon Valley

Poetry

The stars live beyond any known horizon
So far in the distance as to be infinite
Appearing as pearls in the sky
Only showing apparitions of their true selves

Each a gargantuan ball of nuclear fire
Wreathed by rings of burnished rocks
Drifting through an icy void

Are we not a faint twinkling star
In some dark alien night?
A deserted landscape of craters
With a lonely living marble too faint to see

What living planets must thrive in the great beyond!
Worlds with lakes, land and waterfall
With forests and oceans
With animals watching through telescopes
Wondering if there are beings like them
Out in the great beyond

I am a wandering saint roaming the universe
in search of a home made of pure obsidian
ready to reach the gold at the end of the rainbow.
Rain of pain constantly beat me down,
but the vast fields of indifference stare at me with lackluster faces,
lackadaisical arms flapping limply in the breeze.
What before, a clockwork universe, is now a swirl of chaos
buffeting me in every direction,
unaware of how to rejoin a with the festival of joy in men’s hearts.
The sun hides behind the moon in an ethereal ring of light,
casting night where it should be day.
What waters from beyond do wash the sins from our mind,
my head still remain untouched
with visions of sparrows singing their reverie
before their attacks on worms for the day.
Walking a lonely walk,
towards a rainbow where there is now none,
only guided by the stars twinkling in sun’s occluded light.